Harry Goes On
by zapisthename
Summary: Harry Potter is dead, at the ripe old age of 118. So what's next? Limbo? OneShot.


**Okay, so I was slightly cranky when I wrote this, not much of a one shot guy, but this just came to me, and I wrote it. Review it and leave some questions, or tell me if you want to see more one shots.**

**Don't own Harry Potter.**

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Harry woke up at King's Cross. Or atleast that's what his demented mind wanted him to believe, but really, he had no clue. This was for all intents and purposes, his limbo. It was something that could take him on. He had been here before, and he had walked the 'platforms' of the station, at that time, it was with his mentor, and the one person who had helped and steered him his entire life.

Albus Dumbledore.

There was no Albus now, there was no one. Harry liked to think that perhaps Dumbledore had found some peace, perhaps he had finally accepted and come to terms with his guilt, and the family that he ruined. Harry smiled, during his last few years he hadn't smiled all that much. Ginny was always going on about it, but Harry knew that it slowly grew tougher to smile. He had lost Ron last year to a severe bout of Dragon Pox. Hermione, being muggle born had passed away long ago. His two best friends, for practically his entire life (and his entire life ever since he found magic) were gone.

Harry had constant guilt pangs, he always looked back at the time when he was the one supposed to go out first, at a young age. He was supposed to leave the survivors, not the other way round, but that was all hindsight. He had finally come, arrived at his final destination, nowhere to go except one place.

On.

It was simple, even though he did not have a choice, Harry would have chosen going 'On', his family was settled, and Ginny would be fine without him (atleast he hoped She would be)

Harry was alarmed when he heard some coughs. He looked in the direction of the sound, and found a bench. That same bench where Dumbledore and Harry had taken a seat ages ago. It was almost hundred years ago now, his memory had not really helped him out much at this age, but he remembered that encounter, that fateful encounter that had helped him, that had saved the world.

The coughs were coming from the same grotesque creature, the same person that Dumbledore had said could not be helped in anyway. Harry knew who it was.

"Voldemort?"

As affirmative, the creature (if you could call it that) coughed. Harry figured that it would probably be tough for Voldemort to speak. After all, the creature didn't seem to have any tongue, and seemed prone to coughing fits.

"It's time for me, Riddle, I am going on" he said to the creature. The creature coughed again, Harry couldn't for the life of him tell what was going on now, perhaps he was being positive, or taunting Harry, no one could know.

"Not afraid of death Riddle, seems like it made all the difference"

The coughing got worse. It almost seemed like the creature was laughing. Harry did not pay any attention, only someone like Voldemort could be the way he was even in sheer pain.

"It's time Riddle, I don't know about you, but you certainly are one of the most important people in my life, for all the wrong reasons" he said to Riddle.  
As he spoke, a train arrived at the so far empty platform, its door opened, beckoning Harry, asking him to enter.

"I thought death personally arrives and takes you for these things eh? Or was it just a kid's story?" he asked Riddle. The grotesque creature remained silent.

"Well, no point waiting. I have to go. Bye. Riddle" Harry said, sounding nostalgic.

The creature whimpered just as Harry entered the train. As the doors closed and Harry looked at the creature, and to his shock, the creature did have eyes. The eyes had some expression Harry had seen before, in Dumbledore, in Snape, in Oliver Wood when he lost the quidditch cup, in Hermione when Ron left during the Horcrux hunt, in the mirror after Dumbledore's death.

Remorse. The creature, the thing, stuck in between, Riddle, was showing remorse.

The train began moving as white light engulfed it, the creature continued looking.

"Too late" Harry muttered as he felt the light take him, to hopeful a reunion with his family and friends.

Voldemort was stuck there, as a creature that couldn't speak and couldn't move much at all, his own personal hell, punishment for the things that he had done.  
Harry, on the other hand, went on.

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**Phew, done, nothing important, but its just that I haven't written for so long, I needed to take some baby steps, this was one of those steps, for people who read my other stories, I am going to be back soon. Don't go away. **


End file.
